Therapy
by QueenMeep
Summary: Let’s see what happens when Padmé, Anakin, and ObiWan are instructed by their respective therapists to start holonet journals to vent their frustrations and let loose.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all associated characters, plotlines, and worlds (good and bad) are property and copyright © of George Lucas (aka The Richest Man in Hollywood). This is purely for fan entertainment only.

Summary: Let's see what happens when Padmé, Anakin, and Obi-Wan are instructed by their respective therapists to start holonet journals to vent their frustrations and let loose.

Chapter 1

Anakin drummed his fingers on the armrest impatiently, eager for the session to end. The elderly gentleman in the adjacent chair was making a valiant attempt at counseling the ridiculously warped psyche known as Anakin Skywalker. The young Jedi almost snorted, wondering what the Council thought could possibly come of an elderly counselor from peaceful _Naboo_ of all places trying to teach the rebellious Jedi how to handle attachments and errant emotions. _If Obi-Wan couldn't, what makes them think this old guy can? He's never even stepped foot into the Temple, much less know how we live! _

That was until the man actually came up with a practically decent idea. "Well, I know you're due to go on another mission any day now, and I wanted to make sure you continued your progress in expressing yourself," the man began. "I want you to write in your own journal, perhaps on the Holonet so that I can see it here on Coruscant."

This sparked the Jedi's interest, and he hid a grin, thinking of the various journals he already contributed to on a fairly regular basis. He stared at his hands, allowing himself a tiny, bashful smile, "I already have one."

The counselor's eyes widened. "Really?"

Anakin nodded, "On HoloLiveJournal. My name there is manicpoet."

Blink. Blink. "P-poet?" he asked tentatively, waiting for the joke. _I know you're probably manic depressive, but a poet as well? Are we talking about the same person?_

A rosy blush crept up Anakin's neck and he nodded, "I write poetry. Just… don't tell anyone, okay?"

More blinking and a few awkward moments later, the counselor assured him, "I can't tell anyone about any of this, anyway. Besides, who would believe me?"

"Gee, thanks." He feigned sarcasm, but then sighed in relief.

* * *

Later that night:

entry from manicpoet

Thanks to all of you that commented in my poetry journal. I spent a lot of time thinking on the challenge prompt in one of the communities; that was the result. Speaking of results…

Most of you know that I read Senator Amidala's journal regularly. She is one of my favorite politicians, as far as getting results. However, it seems her journal is being used primarily by her fanclub, these days, and not for those of us that wish to support her political views, which I might add, are growing in the minority each day.

I found the comments about the Senator and a particular Jedi Master to be appalling. Not only is this strictly against their Code, but come on… an old fart like him? Surely there is better evidence to support a relationship with her bodyguard Typho, or even that dashing Skywalker. (Although I'm sure she has better taste than that.)

In other news, I will be going away for business for a while, who knows how long. I don't know if I will be able to update, so I can't promise anything. I am not looking forward to spending the next unmentionable amount of time with my partner, as I do not enjoy snoring or emotional outbursts. I would much rather curl up next to my wife and cuddle her hair. (Although I'm still waiting on her to fall asleep before I join her in bed… When I go to bed, I want to go to sleep or spend quality intimate time with her, not TALK.)

* * *

Anakin smirked, avoiding the temptation to edit out "dashing Skywalker". _They have no idea. _

* * *

This goofy story brought to you by the smart!Ani plot bunny and my newfound livejournal love. Please let me know what you think about the smut and angst writer writing comedy!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all associated characters, plotlines, and worlds (good and bad) are property and copyright © of George Lucas (aka The Richest Man in Hollywood). This is purely for fan entertainment only.

Chapter 2

A dump. That was the only way to describe the tiny office the therapist kept, on the fringes of Coruscant and away from the main traffic. If there was anything this therapist was, she was discreet. But messy.

Padmé sighed, easing deeper into the thick cushions of the couch, knowing better than to interrupt the uptight woman in front of her when she was on a rant, giving Padmé "advice". She listened to snippets, hearing something about telling her family, keeping secrets, and pent up aggression. She pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

The young woman paused, noting Padmé's disinterest. "This is going no where." She observed, leaning onto the palm of her hand. "We have discussed your situation with your illicit husband many times, and I've grown to know his problems better than yours. He should definitely be in therapy." She furrowed her brow and thought for a moment.

The Senator tried her hardest to not roll her eyes. She was probably the highest paying client, but yet somehow she felt like she was getting the least amount of help. At last the therapist beamed, having come up with an idea. "You should have a Holonet journal." She nodded enthusiastically, proud of herself. "And you can't talk about your husband in them… this is just about you. We need you to talk about you so that I can help you." She smiled, patting the Senator's hand, "We can't have you giving _me_ a nervous breakdown."

A dignified shrug was the best answer Padmé could come up with, she hid the grin at the therapist's joke. "I will let you know what the username is in our next session."

* * *

Padmé frowned, going through her Senator Amidala journal, not happy at the prospect of having to maintain yet another journal and having to censor herself in it as well. She knew from the millions of hits that her journal got every day that the things could be rather popular, so keeping it anonymous seemed rather important if she was talking about her feelings on her journal.

She rolled her eyes as yet another post showed up, anonymous as usual, about the rumored love affair between herself and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. This time, the poster had provided a poorly manipulated image of the two of them, apparently using another's body, as Padmé had never hugged Master Kenobi.

Grimacing at the neon colors, she blinked at the inscription on the image, "Obidala always?" she sniffed, "Why can't it be Amiobi? Or… Padmewan?" she stared at the image of the bearded Jedi Master and frowned, "As if I would pick a disgruntled old Jedi!"

The community page proved to be more interesting… of the contacts, many came to her rescue, noting how ridiculous they thought the rumor was. The comments from one manicpoet made her giggle, _old fart, indeed. _She paled when she read his comment about being with Anakin. _What could he know, though? I haven't put anything on the journal about it; he's just picking any random person._ She shrugged it off, moving through the content of his journal.

On his poetry page, one word struck her; she moved to go read the poem entitled "Serendipity". _That's an interesting word… could describe how a lot of the events in my life happened._

(entry from Serendipity later that day)

I'm new to this community, and I would just like to introduce myself. I am Serendipity.

I have followed the Senator's work for quite a while and would like to extend my support as well.

I will update more later, but I am rather curious, manicpoet… How does one cuddle hair?

Padmé shook her head and went back to the poet's journal, interested to see what the manic one referred to as poetry, sighing at the sappiness she found.

_I look upon your face and sigh _

_Knowing someday I shall have to try _

_To tell you what you mean to me _

_How very sweet this dream can be. _

_In your hands, my dear wife, _

_I humbly place my very life. _

_When my soul begins to drift _

_Your smile is a precious gift._

"He's too sweet." She whispered to herself.

* * *

The goofy Ani poetry was written by my wonderful beta. Wonderfully awful, isn't it? I'm looking for contributions for Ani's poetry… the worse, the better! If you're interested, PM or email me. : ) 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all associated characters, plotlines, and worlds (good and bad) are property and copyright © of George Lucas (aka The Richest Man in Hollywood). This is purely for fan entertainment only.

Chapter 3

"I do NOT need to still be enrolled in therapy." He tried to moderate his voice and yet convey his message at the same time. For some reason, diplomacy did not feel like a strong ability when talking about himself.

The therapist shook his head slowly, noting the comment in the file as Obi-Wan spoke. "You are in therapy because of your outburst about fear of arachnids. As you know well, perhaps more so than other Jedi, fear is not to be perpetuated as it leads down a very nasty path," he began.

Obi-Wan interrupted, "Not fear of arachnids. That can't possibly lead to the Darkside."

Glaring back, the therapist continued, "However, while in therapy for your phobia, we also learned of many underlying issues, including narcissism, depression, and a nasty superiority issue."

"Narcissism? What planet are you from? Do they require you to use the Galactic standard of medicine there?" Obi-Wan prompted, frowning at the unfamiliar term.

The therapist ignored the attack, explaining, "It is a term used on my home planet for self love."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, "Oh, come on. I'm not discussing my sex life."

He blinked, "Your sex… what? Oh, no, not that… that you love yourself just a tad too much, not that you…" he shook his head, "Nevermind. Any way, Master Kenobi, I think we would make greater progress if you kept a journal on the HoloNet instead of just relying upon our sessions.

The Jedi Master inclined his head, "If that will get me out of therapy faster, Doctor Fill."

* * *

Hours later, emptysoul was born. He had been drawn to Senator Amidala's HoloNet account of her Senate proceedings when he and Anakin had been assigned to her years prior.He thought perhaps her journal would be a good place to start if he were going to interact with others while making his own journal. Before posting, he went to the community section and eyeballed the comments made recently.

Obi-Wan came upon manic poet's journal and cringed at the comments about himself. "Old fart?" he asked aloud, looking in the mirror beside the terminal. "I'm not old, I'm… distinguished!" He smoothed the crease in his brow, taking a deep breath. He started his defense of himself in the journal…

(entry for emptysoul)

I would happen to disagree with the misconception that Master Kenobi was not the right type for Senator Amidala. Were a Jedi to go outside of the Code to be with her (and this is likely never going to be the case as one does not rise to the rank of Master without appreciating full well what the Code entails), she could not find a better specimen.

He is rather handsome and distinguished, with flowing auburn hair, which would go wonderfully with her own dark hair. His hazel eyes change colors and vary from blue to green, they are rather expressive. He is very knowledgeable and intelligent. He rose through the ranks at a fairly young age, even taking in a Padawan as soon as he became a Knight himself. And he is an excellent diplomat- surely this would be a strength to Senator Amidala.

And you suggest Knight Skywalker? That impetuous brat? His anger is clearly visible even in any Holo broadcast. And he is just a child. That would practically be child molestation on behalf of the Senator. No, Kenobi would be a much nicer fit.

Alas, she will have neither man, so she should probably stick with Captain Typho.

* * *

Obi-Wan frowned at the entry, wondering how in the world the therapist could mistake his confidence in his abilities and himself for narcissism.

He obviously never had to handle war campaigns or the tempestuous Anakin Skywalker. Now _that_ _one_ is narcissistic.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all associated characters, plotlines, and worlds (good and bad) are property and copyright © of George Lucas (aka The Richest Man in Hollywood). This is purely for fan entertainment only.

Chapter 4

The elderly therapist finished scrolling through manicpoet's journal on the Holonet before turning back to the young Jedi. He mused on the latest poem added to the journal,

Her tresses flow  
A winding, riding silken road  
Over her very hips  
And valleys  
In tandem to  
The dark shine  
Of obsidian eyes  
That lock to mine  
On a breath of stars

He blinked twice, verifying once again that the poem had come from Anakin's journal. The Knight's advanced vocabulary never ceased to amaze him as he read more and more entries, but the subject matter remained pitifully the same- romantic drivel. Sappy, saccharine drivel at that. He cleared his throat, "You're opening up nicely." He refrained from commenting what came to mind next, _It's painfully obvious what's going on, and if the public had the missing pieces to the identity of the person writing these thoughts, the entire galaxy would be in trouble._ "And you're taking precautions so that no one can discover your identity?"

Anakin rolled his eyes, "Contrary to what people might think of me, I'm not stupid."

The therapist inclined his head, "No, not stupid. Very emotional and hard headed, yes, but not stupid."

To his relief, Anakin grinned. "Well, what do I do next? I think I've given you enough information to write a novel on my entire life from the various journals that I contribute to, particularly manicpoet."

The therapist glanced back at the pages upon pages of rants and poetry detailing the man's political views, love life, and anxieties. _I could write an entire textbook on Anakin Skywalker._ "Just continue writing, I will need some additional time to continue analyzing everything within. I think you've already taken a valuable first step."

Anakin nodded, "Sure."

* * *

Later that day, Knight Skywalker sat down to finish writing comments to his new friend Serendipity, whom had been spending the past few days heckling him about his use of the term "cuddling hair" and had supported his view about the ridiculousness of Obi-Wan pursuing Senator Amidala. She still had laughed at him after he explained that "hair cuddling" involved appreciating the smell of a woman's hair and nuzzling up to her at the same time.

He read through emptysoul's defense of Obi-Wan and snorted, thinking of his Master. _Goofy narcisstic Master would be eating this up if he was reading it._

Anakin pulled up a new entry and did as the therapist requested and put down his thoughts once more.

(entry from manicpoet)

The days are growing longer and longer in between seeing my wife. The business trips have been getting more and more extensive and dangerous as the War rages on and gets closer and closer to home. And when I return, after the initial closeness and catching up, I find the silence is unbearable between the two of us. We are still newlyweds at heart, as since we got married a few years ago, we have not been able to stay together for very long at all.

My partner at work is growing more and more unbearable as well. His snoring woke up everyone around us and he got a cold, making him much more grouchy than ever before.

But thanks to Serendipity's amusing comebacks to everything I say, life is not _that_ terrible… if only my wife could have her sense of humor.

* * *

Anakin sighed, turning off the terminal before stealing away through the window to see Padmé just one more time before another mission came up.

* * *

Special thanks to ObiUberJedi for the stupendous bad poem! I love it! Any thoughts, contributions, or comments are welcome :D I hope it's even half as funny as the last seemed to be. 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all associated characters, plotlines, and worlds (good and bad) are property and copyright © of George Lucas (aka The Richest Man in Hollywood). This is purely for fan entertainment only.

Chapter 5

"Meesa no likey you, Jar Jar Binks." Padmé grumbled, dumping her work tote into an armchair and falling backwards into the plush cushions with a disgruntled sigh. "If I ever have to work another nine hours with that gungan ever again, I'll…" she trailed off dangerously, pausing only when Sabé came to the rescue with a tall cylinder of citrusade spiked with Corellian whiskey, her specialty.

"Another tough day?" she asked, propping Padmé's feet up and slipping the pointy slippers off, replacing them with fuzzy bantha slippers.

The Senator nodded ruefully, sipping on the delectable concoction. "He spent three hours lecturing the Senate, and truthfully, unless I did not have first hand knowledge that he was talking about a trade deal in the Outer Rim, I would think he was talking about dancing with aquatic creatures or some nonsense." She giggled, watching Sabé as her handmaiden pulled up the Holonet, going through her recent messages.

The handmaiden pulled up the Amidala journal, "Quite a few updates, today." Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "There's one from an emptysoul," she began.

Padmé's eyes narrowed, "Force, no!"

Her aide giggled, listing off a few other names before finding another familiar one. "What about manicpoet?"

The Nabooan Senator grinned, "What does he have to say?"

Sabé smirked and pulled up the desired page, reading aloud, her laughter dying as she read the words.

"While off-world on business, the harsh realities of the War are creeping up on me. I found out that one of the businesswomen from my firm was lost to us. This is for her.

"Her happy soul has winged its way

To one pure bright eternal day

No pain, no grief, no anxious fear

Can reach the peaceful sleeper here."

The Senator blinked back tears, thinking at once of Anakin, and the constant threat that she might learn from the Holonet herself of his own untimely demise. She swallowed the lump in her throat, taking a long drag from the alcoholic beverage. Sabé wisely headed toward the bedrooms, leaving her mistress in peace.

All of the deaths, the pain, the suffering… it was taking a toll- on her and on the rest of the galaxy. She pulled up Serendipity's journal, composing a new entry.

(entry from Serendipity)

I am sorry to hear of your loss, manicpoet, I truly am. I can imagine how it must feel.

If only I could make a difference! The women and children of our galaxy are suffering endlessly while the politicians piddle about without making any returns to the negotiating table, to diplomacy.

Forgive my rant… death bothers me.

… If you ever need someone to talk to, I am here. I know what it is like to live with the thought of losing people you care about, daily. It can get to be a very lonely life as you start to withdraw from them, hoping it will hurt less when they are gone.

* * *

Padmé sighed wistfully, "He's such a sensitive soul." She propped her chin on the palm of her hand, thinking of the thoughtful entries manicpoet had recently graced them with. "If only Anakin…" she froze mid-sentence, frowning softly. "No." _I cannot go there. _


End file.
